


Time

by punportunist



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, I was all up in my feels and this fell out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:15:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23017621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punportunist/pseuds/punportunist
Summary: This is a story literally nobody asked for but that I felt compelled to write anyway. Please read the tag! Chapters with trigger material will have warnings. Rated M for emotionally mature themes.Each chapter contains flashes of moments over the course of a lifetime. Sometimes happy endings don't happen the way we thought they would.PP3 doesn't exist in this fic.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 41
Kudos: 94





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment if you're feeling kind. I sincerely hope you like it.

**The Beginning**

It’s been about a year since they’d all graduated. So much has changed over those months since walking across that stage. And Chloe Beale has never really been the type to dive headfirst into “new” but these changes have been good. She’d moved from Barden to Atlanta, and was quickly scooped up as an English teacher at one of their new charter schools.

She’d put off graduating for so long she’d truly forgotten how much she loved written words. How much joy she got out of reading and analyzing the intent behind them. But that pleasure had come back full force in the year she’s been teaching her students. She loves the looks on their faces when they read a particularly beautiful sentence. When they see the symbolism without her having to point it out. She doesn’t regret all the extra years she spent at Barden, she could never, but she also realizes that maybe she was holding herself back from truly being happy because she was afraid to let go of something that was already good.

When she isn’t teaching her students, she’s teaching herself. She signed up for water aerobics at her local gym, and an intro to ASL class at the community college. She learned how to knit. She’s slowly been retraining her mind to embrace change. And she’s proud of how far she’s come.

But one thing hasn’t changed. And she’s not even sure it ever really could. And that is the fact that she’s still head over heels in love with Beca Mitchell.

She’s always made excuses for why she never told Beca about her feelings. There was always a Jesse, or a rapidly evolving producing career that pulled Beca all over the country. Or a distinct lack of courage when neither of the previous things were true. She doesn’t know if the stars will ever align just right. Or at least right enough to tell Beca about her feelings. For now, she’s just along for the ride of being her best friend. And that’s good enough, she thinks.

She’s in the middle of these musings when a light knock at her front door stops them in their tracks. She walks calmly to it, despite her heart pleading for her to go faster. And when she opens it, she’s face to face with the girl she’d just been thinking about.

“Hey, stranger,” Beca says around her signature smirk, before throwing herself right into Chloe’s arms.

“Beca,” Chloe says happily. It’s been weeks since they’ve seen each other. Despite Beca having an apartment in the city, she’s been home less and less the last few months. She’s back now from her latest project acquisition, but Chloe knows from experience it won’t take long for her to have to leave again. She lifts her arms and wraps them around Beca’s back, pulling her in close and resting her chin over Beca’s shoulder. She loves these moments. These excuses to let Beca into her space. To be in Beca's.

But all too soon, the hands at her back start to slip away, and Beca lets her go and steps back again. 

She steps aside so Beca can come in, shutting the door behind her.

"Happy to be home?" she asks, settling next to Beca on the couch.

"Ugh, god yes," Beca says. She presses the back of her neck into the couch cushion and looks straight up at the ceiling. "My apartment was gathering cobwebs by the time I got home last night."

Chloe laughs, but isn't sure if Beca's being serious or not.

"Maybe you should hire a cleaning service when you're gone for such long stretches," she suggests, half playfully. She knows Beca would never allow it. Strangers that close to her home studio? Forget about it.

"It's funny you should bring that up," she responds. She looks away from the ceiling and right at Chloe. "I have some good news."

Chloe raises an eyebrow. She's not sure how mentioning a cleaning service could have anything to do with what Beca's about to say.

"I'm just getting so tired of travelling all the time, you know? How am I supposed to have a life that way? I sleep in hotel rooms as much as my own bed. There's so much I can't have like this."

"Like what?" Chloe asks, genuinely curious. Beca has pretty much everything.

"Like... I dunno. House plants?" she jokes. But Chloe knows that's not what Beca really wants to say so she remains quiet, waiting for the real answer.

"What if I wanted a dog? Or a goldfish?" She pauses again, and her cheeks warm with the rise of her blush. Just like they always do before Beca says something with genuine emotion. "What if I wanted a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? I'm... I'm lonely, Chlo."

And Chloe's heart has really never been able to withstand a sad Beca Mitchell. It's always pulled at something inside her in a way other things can't.

"You don't deserve to be lonely," she says quietly. But then she remembers Beca was trying to tell her something before all this got brought up. "You mentioned good news though?"

"Yes," she says, smiling. "After getting this last guy on board I just thought 'fuck it', you know? I'm good enough for them to come to me."

Chloe smiles back, nodding along. Nothing has ever been more true.

"So I told my EP I wanted to stay in one place. I've done enough for the label without having to continue not having a life."

Chloe laughs, imagining such a conversation. "Did you really say it like that?"

"Well, I may have said it a little nicer than that," Beca says, laughing too. "But I know what I'm worth, and I didn't downplay that. Anyway, he agreed! So no more traveling, unless I want to, of course. I'll be based out of the same city for the rest of my contract, with options to renew under the same terms."

Happiness, and something strikingly like panic, grip Chloe's heart.

"Beca! That's amazing! I'm so happy for you. I hope you and your goldfish are very happy together."

She's both dying to know and dreading the answer of where Beca will be settling down. Chloe knows for a fact that her label has at least four different branches, and the next closest one is hours away by car. She lets Beca smile at her for just a moment longer before she steels herself and lets the words go.

"Where will you be based out of?"

But Beca's smile only grows at this, and the panic in Chloe's veins recedes a little.

"Atlanta, of course. I didn't really want to move. I love my apartment, and my dad is here. It just made sense."

Chloe knows her own smile is bordering on creepy, but she can't help the relief that's flooding through her.

"Plus, do you really think I'd ever leave you here to fend for yourself?"

She laughs at this. Beca's always had a special brand of emotional expression.

"I'd miss you, too, weirdo."

They talk a little more then about how her job will be different now that the travelling element is removed. When she's getting started with her latest artist and how she will decorate her new office.

Beca asks if Chloe is ready for spring break and which novel she and her class are currently going through.

It's easy, just like it's always been with Beca. Except now there's a little voice inside her head telling her it's finally time.

_Tell her. Tell her. Tell her._

But she can't bring herself to it. Not this moment. The stars are still scattered all over their sky, waiting to fall in line.

So she holds her secret. But the secret feels different now, with the promise of Beca's more permanent presence. It sits differently in her heart, squirmy and restless. This secret, she knows, won't sit forever in the cage she's created for it.

She just hopes Beca's ready to hear it when it gets loose.

/

_One Month Later_

When she opens the door to Beca this time, the adrenaline is already racing through her. It skids around her heart and screeches through her lungs. It makes her legs feel both weak and flighty at the same time.

She'd invited Beca over under the guise of helping her repaint the spare bedroom. First, because it sounded innocent enough. And second, because it really did need repainting. There were scuff marks left behind from when she had to exchange her bookshelf for a larger one.

But really, she has an ulterior motive. Today is the day.

If ever there were a time when she'd have the courage, when everything would be right enough, it'd be while the two of them are alone together. When Beca's half of the wall is only painted halfway up and when Chloe has primer all over her face and clothes. When they'd spent all afternoon singing and laughing at each other.

And some part of her really believes Beca is ready. That maybe Beca even reciprocates. Their relationship feels like so much more than friendship sometimes Chloe wonders if maybe she missed a memo. And she thinks even if this isn't what Beca wants, she's confident enough that their friendship can survive it.

She's ready.

"Did you buy a pair of overalls just for today?" she asks, taking in the image of Beca standing there in denim coveralls.

"Listen, do you want the help or not? Because I can take my happy ass back home," Beca says playfully, stepping inside.

"No, no. I'd rather you take your happy ass to the bedroom."

Beca smirks at her before moving past and starting down the hall.

"Not even an offer of dinner first. Shame on you, Beale."

Chloe laughs and moves after her. She shakes her head to herself, but feels more confident than ever.

Painting, as it turns out, requires more energy than she anticipated. It doesn't take long for her arms to begin to tire, despite her three evenings a week water aerobics. But it doesn't dampen her spirits, and about halfway through the second coat, her moment comes.

Beca's walking back to the center of the room to refill her roller, and she watches as if it happens in slow motion. She watches as Beca lowers the pole to the tray, the muscles in her arms unusually defined in the action. She rolls it through the paint tray, and lifts again to go back to her spot on the wall. And then, as she's turning on one heel, she catches a patch of spilled paint on the floor tarp just right. Her feet fly out from under her in an almost cartoonish arc, and the paint on her roller whips into the air, landing on the walls, the ceiling, and back down on Beca.

And Chloe doesn't know why her first reaction isn't to check if Beca's okay. She must just inherently know that she is because without any hesitation she doubles over in laughter. After a few moments, she reins it in, placing a hand on her knee to keep her somewhat upright. Beca's still in the floor, but she's sitting up now. She looks more scandalized at Chloe's laughter than anything else.

But Chloe thinks she looks beautiful. She carefully puts her own roller down as she walks over. The dripping paint on the walls and her ceiling goes forgotten as she gets down on her knees in front of Beca.

There's paint in her hair and on the side of her face. Chloe uses one hand to comb the hair away from her forehead, and it leaves a blue streak in its wake. It starts out thick but thins out by the end of its run, almost as if Chloe had meant to draw it like that on purpose. It makes her smile.

"You're gonna tell all the Bellas about this, aren't you?" Beca asks, the hint of her usual smirk peeking through her scowl.

"I'm so in love with you, Beca."

There's a moment of shocked silence in which neither of them say anything. And it makes Chloe think she should give a little more information.

"I know there was probably a right way to have said that. With maybe better words and when you weren't covered in paint," she says, looking straight into Beca's turbulent blue eyes. "But it doesn't change that I am. And I just... god, I just think you're perfect for me."

She pauses again, and she thinks she sees something start to settle in Beca's gaze.

"You're in love with me?" she asks quietly. She doesn't look away.

Chloe only nods, unsure which direction Beca's reaction is taking them.

"As in, want to be together in love with me? Like, as a couple? And everything that goes with it?"

She almost just nods again. But she thinks if Beca wants clarity here then the least she can do is give it to her.

"I want it all, Beca."

Her eyes flit back and forth between Chloe's for a few seconds, but before she responds she looks up at the ceiling. 

"I hope you have some ceiling paint around here somewhere."

Her heart sinks, almost feeling as if she's been dismissed. For want of a distraction, she looks up at the ceiling too. She looks at the little blue splashes, and almost laughs at how they're formed in a nearly perfect line. So much for their stars.

But when she looks back down, Beca is suddenly closer. And there's a blush rising rapidly up her cheeks.

She leans in without warning, but Chloe doesn't need one. And when her lips find Chloe's mouth it's all she can do not to gasp. She's fantasized about kissing Beca a thousand times but never have those fantasies lived up to this. To the way Beca finds her lips over and over. Or how her fingers, still wet with paint, slip into Chloe's hair and pull her even closer.

And they have a lot to talk about, she thinks. But all that can wait. There's too much to unpack right here in the floor of her spare bedroom, with little blue stars drying over their heads.

Eventually, Beca does pull back. Whether for air or something else Chloe isn't sure. But while Chloe catches her breath, Beca says one thing. One thing that imbeds itself into her heart like a permanent fixture.

"If you'll let me, I'll love you forever."


	2. The Middle

**The Middle**

“Can we get a house with a fireplace?”

Beca’s smiling when she turns around. As if she’d been waiting for such a request.

“You know it doesn’t get that cold here, right? Even in winter,” she says airily.

But Chloe knows it’s a bluff. There isn’t a shred of doubt in her mind that Beca would ever deny her. If she had the power, she’d pluck the sun right out of the sky if it would keep Chloe warm.

“It gets cold enough!” Chloe says playfully, scrolling through the listings for sale on her phone.

“Yeah,” Beca says, smiling again. She sits down next to her on the couch and leans into her side so she can look too. “I suppose it does.”

They scroll together for a few minutes before Beca becomes impatient with all the ones she doesn’t like.

“Let me see that,” she says, holding her hand out flat for the phone. Chloe hands it over, and watches as Beca looks through the filter options. She smiles when the first one Beca checks is “Has Fireplace”.

She takes the phone back but doesn’t continue to look. She tosses it onto the cushion on her other side, where it lands face down. Forgotten. Unimportant.

“I thought you wanted to bookmark some options before the football game tonight? I heard it was like a faux pas to skip out on 'Friday Night Lights' if you teach at the school,” Beca says, genuinely unaware of how much Chloe loves her for just being herself in that moment.

And she’s right. Chloe _had_ wanted to look at options before the game. The game she’d promised some of her students she’d go to watch them play in. But the options will be there later. Right now, she just wants to love Beca Mitchell.

“It can wait,” she says quietly before leaning in. She kisses Beca in that way that is both familiar and still exhilarating. And like a reflex, Beca’s hands find her jaw and neck, as if they can’t resist landing somewhere on Chloe’s skin.

“I didn’t know a fireplace was that important to you,” Beca smirks between kisses. Chloe shuts her up by finding her mouth one more time.

/

_Six Months Later_

Chloe has been singing around their house all day long. She can't help it. The annual Bella reunion always gets her in the mood for it.

She can't wait for Beca to get home from work. She'd made a self-imposed rule that she couldn't begin getting ready for the evening until Beca was back, but she promised it'd be earlier than usual tonight. So she figured she'd get less eyerolls if she just waited (even though she knows Beca is just as excited).

So instead, she's been distracting herself with cleaning. Not that the place really needed it, but it's nice to really get in a deep clean every now and then. When she's done everything she can think to do, she walks into the room they'd designated an office, despite neither of them really needing one. Still, it was nice to have a quiet space for her books to live. She looks at them now, spines out and waiting for her to pick one up. She'd graduated again from her last bookshelf. Now, they sit on six-foot shelves built right into the wall. They'll be such a pain if they ever move again, but Chloe's had this love affair with words almost her whole life. There's no point in trying to change it now.

It's where Beca finds her about an hour later, laying down on the floor with a book open-faced in front of her. She's read these words before, but doesn't enjoy them any less for it.

"You know there's a very comfortable couch, like, right there..." she says from the threshold, arms crossed over her chest in pure Beca Mitchell form.

"Yeah I... I dropped the book when I picked it off the shelf. It landed open and I just figured... 'why not'?" she says, shrugging. The carpet in that room was soft enough to be comfortable.

Beca uncrosses her arms and reaches for Chloe. Cool fingers curve around her forearms and Beca pulls her closer, smiling the whole time.

"I think that's one of the most 'Chloe' things you've ever said to me," she says laughing.

"You love it," Chloe responds instantly.

"I do," Beca says simply. "Now let's get ready for this party, shall we? Amy will kill us if she's not the one most fashionably late."

Chloe laughs (because it's true) and lets Beca lead her away.

The reunion is being held back on campus at Barden this year. It's an odd choice of location. This is only her second one as an alumna, but she knows from Aubrey that they're usually held on rooftop bars or nice restaurants. When she'd asked Aubrey over Facetime why it's on campus this year (because of course Aubrey is on the the alumni committee) her only response was to shrug and say one of the many Bellas in attendance must have insisted on it. She doesn't think much of it after that, she'll always be happy to be back here.

Her heart swells with every hug once they arrive. Of course, they still see the girls from time to time throughout the year but this is usually the one time they're all together. And Chloe lives for it.

The main event is being hosted by the old empty and abandoned pool, which for all intents and purposes has been adopted by the school's a capella enthusiasts. There are girls around the pool and in the pool. But every now and then Chloe sees a few wander off in twos and threes for strolls around campus. It's probably been a while for many of them since they last roamed these little streets. It makes Chloe smile all over again to see them always wind up right back here, welcomed happily back into the fold.

It doesn't surprise her when Beca quietly slips into the space beside her and suggests they do exactly that. Chloe agrees right away, but also doesn't want to spend any time away from her Bellas. The ones she graduated with. But Beca only smiles at the request to round them up.

"They're already waiting for us," she says, holding out a hand for Chloe to take.

She takes it and looks past Beca and sees them all huddled on the nearby path. Aubrey and Amy and Stacie. Cynthia Rose and Flo and Lilly. Jessica and Ashley. And right in the back stands Emily, who looks around at them all like they were what she wished for for her birthday.

"Emily! What are you doing here?! I thought current Bellas weren't allowed at the reunions?"

She moves past the others and pulls Emily in for a quick hug.

"Well, I mean I still live on campus. And I figured walking around doesn't count as being at the reunion," she says sneakily, as if she's proud of her own cleverness. "Besides, I couldn't pass up seeing you guys."

Chloe beams at her, so happy to have her here in this moment.

"Can we get this show on the road?" calls a voice from behind her. A voice with a distinctly Australian accent. "I didn't know there'd be cardio at this reunion. You'll have to forgive me for wanting to get it over with."

Chloe laughs but Beca responds before she can.

"It's just a stroll, Ames."

And suddenly Beca's next to her again, slipping her hand into Chloe's and leading the group away.

They walk, seemingly aimlessly for a few minutes. The tiny streets of Barden are lit by orange streetlamps, and the laughter of the group echoes through the patches of darkness. When they next turn a corner, Chloe realizes where Beca is taking them.

"You're going to the outdoor amphitheater," she says happily.

Beca hums to acknowledge that Chloe's correct. "It wouldn't be right to come back here and not visit it."

Chloe doesn't respond, preferring to keep it to herself how much she loves it whenever Beca Mitchell gets sentimental.

She frowns as they get closer though. The streetlights that used to surround the place are all extinguished, and even though the moon hangs in the sky over their heads it won't be easy to see much of anything. She looks over at Beca but she doesn't seem as put off by the darkness as Chloe.

She leads them confidently right down the steps, but stops well before they reach the grassy stage at the bottom. She leads Chloe into a row about a third of the way down. Chloe turns around to see how far behind the other girls are but they're not there. And now that she thinks about it, she doesn't know if she can pinpoint exactly when the discussions and laughter fell to silence.

"Where did they go?" Chloe says as she laughs. But the question doesn't go unanswered for very long, because as soon as she turns back to Beca the place is suddenly bathed in soft light. She looks up to see strings of white twinkle lights shining over their heads. Thousands of them shimmer above, their own personal constellations. And one by one, the Bellas reappear by the stage, walking up the aisle and scattering in a loose circle in the rows that surround them. They all smile like absolutely all of this is totally normal.

"Beca?" she asks. Her voice wavers just a little and her eyes already feel glassy with tears. She doesn't know what this is but she is completely confident Beca arranged it. It has that same sense of quiet romanticism all over it. She takes Chloe's hands in both of her own before she speaks.

"I wanted everything to be perfect, but you'll have to forgive me for being a little nervous," she says after a deep breath.

Chloe just smiles at her. It already is perfect.

"I knew that when I decided to do this, I wanted it to be right here. Not just at Barden, or in this amphitheater, but right here on this row."

Chloe looks down again, trying to figure out why. But Beca answers her unasked question.

"It was on this row that you took my hands my freshman year and told me we would be friends."

Chloe smiles, remembering it even through the fog of time passed since.

"I could never have dreamed of what we'd create from that moment. That friendship, this life. You make me happier than anyone or anything else and I don't ever want to give that up."

She gently lowers Chloe's hands then, and reaches into her jacket pocket. When she pulls it back out, a little black box waits inside her fist.

"Oh my god," Chloe says, realizing what is happening. Her hands fly to her face, covering her mouth and nose out of shock. She wants to look around. To confirm this is real on the faces of the other Bellas but she can't make herself look away from Beca.

"With that goal in mind," she says, opening the box to reveal the most gorgeous ring she's ever seen in person, "will you marry me?"

Her vision blurs as the tears spring forth and she hates them a little bit for obscuring her view of Beca's smile. But she can see it clearly enough as she leans forward, meeting it with her own in a wet and salty kiss.

"Yes," she says between kisses. " _Yes. Yes. Yes._ "

Somewhere, as if heard through a long tunnel, the cheers and applause her Bellas reach her ears.

/

_Two Years Later_

"Okay! It's time to start pushing! Are you ready?"

The truth is she really doesn't know the answer to that question. And something like fear makes it's way to the forefront of her emotions.

She has no idea how to take care of a baby. What if she doesn't do it right? What if she forgets every last thing she's read in the last nine months? She looks at Beca, standing right by her side. There's a mix of giddiness and anxiety on her face as well, but somehow it gives Chloe confidence.

"I know you're scared," she says, leaning down and looking right into Chloe's eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing either."

Chloe laughs despite her current discomfort and pain.

"But you are the strongest woman I know. You have blown me away every day of this pregnancy and you never stop amazing me."

She's crying now, and she can see that Beca is on the verge of it too.

"We have a lot to learn, but I know we'll figure it out together. Always together, right?"

Chloe nods, feeling her next contraction stirring.

"So I say let's meet our daughter."

"Okay, Chloe! When you feel the contraction at its strongest, push as hard as you can," says the nurse on Chloe's other side. She turns from Beca to look at the monitor, and the climbing line that indicates her mounting contraction. She grits her teeth through the pain.

"I love you, Chlo," Beca whispers in her ear as she takes her hand.

And Chloe repeats the words to herself over and over as she begins to push.

/

_One Year Later_

They watch as Riley shuffles down the side of the couch. She's taken a few successful steps on her own, but still prefers to hold onto something if she can.

Walking is hard.

"We should probably invest in some better shoes for her now that she's on her feet," Beca says sleepily. She has her head in Chloe's lap, and she makes funny faces at Riley as their daughter gets closer and closer.

"Yeah, I'll have to Google what the best kind are," Chloe says, laughing as Riley laughs. It's sort of a knee-jerk response whenever their baby giggles.

"I miss her being small already."

Chloe sympathizes. She loves watching Riley grow. It thrills her endlessly every time she learns something new. But she also misses the days of so much cuddling. Holding her sleeping baby. Feeling tiny hands grip onto her fingers.

"I can't believe she's already a year old."

Beca hums in agreement and they sit in comfortable silence a few moments just watching their daughter move on to the collection of toys in the middle of the room.

"I think she needs a sibling," Beca says. She says it so casually she could be talking about something as trivial as what she wants for dinner. She sits up then and looks at Chloe. Her eyes sparkle with genuine happiness.

"So soon?" Chloe asks. If she's being honest, she'd love to give Riley a baby brother or sister. But she's not too keen on giving up her body to pregnancy all over again so quickly after getting it back.

"I..." Beca starts, her cheeks warming with a fresh blush, "I was thinking maybe I could carry this time."

She leans back a little with surprise. There had been many reasons they'd chosen Chloe to carry Riley. She always assumed if they had another those reasons would still apply.

"I know it'll be a little crazy with my job and... general disposition," Beca says with a self-deprecating laugh, seemingly reading Chloe's mind. "But you literally created another human and gave me the best gift I've ever gotten. I... I want to do that for you."

And Chloe can't help but smile. Can't help but wonder, for the millionth time, how she got lucky enough to get to love someone like Beca.

"Okay," she says softly.

She tries to imagine Beca pregnant. Tries to see the growing belly on the woman she loves.

Her smile only grows.


	3. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter!!! Please see the tag!

**The End**

The vibration of her ringing cell phone distracts her from the rerun currently playing on her TV. Muting the show first, Chloe then reaches for the buzzing device as it slowly moves across her coffee table.

"Hey, babe," she says happily after checking the name and answering.

"Hey, Chlo. Just wanted to let you know I'm leaving work. Gonna drop by the grocery store on my way. I know there's a few things on the list. Figured we could save some time by not going tomorrow."

Chloe nods, though Beca can't see her. It would definitely be easier for Beca to go alone now than for them to take both their daughters there tomorrow. 

"Thanks, Bec. I'll go ahead and start dinner," she says. She stretches a bit on their couch before standing, loving the way her back pops a few times in the process.

"See you soon. Love you."

Chloe echos the sentiment and hangs up. She walks into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator, scanning its contents. It doesn't take long to put together a meal in her head that doesn't require anything they don't currently have.

She pulls out containers and a few vegetables and gets to work. She's always liked cooking. And since having their second daughter, Caroline, Friday nights have always been their date night. Sometimes they go out to dinner or see a movie before Beca's parents bring the girls home. But mostly Chloe enjoys making dinner at home and having alone time with Beca. Where they can sit down and hear each other talk. When there's no rush and when there isn't a little one taking a third of the food off her plate. She loves date night.

She hums to herself while she moves around the kitchen, and soon the space is filled with the smell of sizzling vegetables on the stove top. She commends herself for not stealing bites here and there. She wants to wait for Beca.

Except the time she expected her home comes and goes. She wonders if maybe there are just a lot of people at the store. But then their dinner is ready with still only half of them present to eat it. She calls Beca's phone but it goes to voicemail after several rings.

She starts to worry, and their dinner goes forgotten, cooling by the second on their plates. She calls a few more times, but still gets Beca's voicemail each time.

She begins to wonder who else she can call. But Beca wasn't with anyone. Nobody she could call would be of any help to her. She's beginning to consider calling the studio, to see if maybe Beca got caught up on her way out when her phone begins to ring.

And dread settles in her stomach at seeing the unknown number. As if she already knows the stranger on the other end won't have anything good to say.

"Hello?" she asks, forcing her voice to be even.

"Is this Chloe Beale?" says the voice of a woman she doesn't recognize.

"Yes, this is Chloe," she says. She can hear noise in the background. Phones ringing and what sounds like lots of people talking.

"This is Melissa, the head nurse of the emergency department at Piedmont Atlanta," she says slowly, as if she's trying to ensure Chloe understands every word.

And the dread in her stomach expands. It climbs up her throat. It reaches through her veins into the very tips of her fingers.

"Is it Beca? What's wrong?"

Melissa takes the smallest of seconds to respond, but they feel like an eternity.

"Beca is here. She was involved in an accident. We think it would be best if you came."

And Chloe's never been the best at handling panic. If it's fight, flight, or freeze, Chloe freezes. But she wills herself not to shut down now.

"Is she okay? She's not..." she pauses, refusing to even say the words. "She's alive." She says it as a statement, not a question. Her body can't handle the possibility of there being multiple answers.

"She's alive," Melissa repeats. But then, "But you need to come."

Something about the way she says it makes her previous statement conditional. And Chloe hates it.

She hangs up without saying another word and looks around. As if someone will be standing there telling her what to do next. But of course there isn't so she has to do her best on her own.

She makes sure the oven and stovetop are both turned off before swiping her wallet from the bedroom and her keys off the hook by the door. She pulls her shoes on as she walks out, hopping a little as she pulls.

She wills herself to remain calm. It won't do anyone any good if she gets into an accident herself on the way there.

She calls Beca's stepmom while she drives and asks if the girls can spend the night. They offer to bring them to the hospital but Chloe doesn't even know yet how bad it is and she doesn't want her girls to see something they can't ever unsee.

She promises to keep them updated and hangs up again. People are just going to have to forgive her rudeness this evening.

It seems to take forever to get to the hospital. People are driving extra slow or else finding other ways to be in her path. When she finally makes it to the hospital area, she follows the signs for the emergency room and parks in the first spot she sees. She walks as fast as she can without running through the powered sliding glass doors and straight to the desk where an older man is sitting directing people.

"I'm here to see Beca Mitchell," she says to him before even fully reaching speaking distance. She watches his face for any sign of what she's walking into.

"I'll have a nurse walk you back," he says evenly. The lack of inflection in his voice is infuriating. Don't they know she needs information?

She doesn't wait long before a nurse walks through a door and indicates that Chloe should follow her. And even though she's been dying for information from the moment of that dreadful phone call, she now can't seem to take in everything the nurse is saying.

She hears things in only isolated words and phrases. And it confuses her more to try and make sense out of them. Things like "internal bleed" and "denying pain management" and "nothing we can do." She hears something about "doctor is unsure how long" and "probably not through the night."

And some part of her brain is working furiously to put it all together, but the conclusion it comes to is unacceptable, so she stops listening to it. She just follows the nurse until she leads them into a one-person room.

And Chloe feels it as soon as she looks at Beca. She feels her heart stop, as if there's nothing left for it to beat for. Because Beca, her Beca, doesn't look like her Beca.

There's blood everywhere. On her forehead and in her hair. Drying on the sheets she lays on. There's about six different bags of liquid hanging on a stand by her side but none of them seem to be connected to Beca's body. And the little voice in Chloe's head remembers the nurse saying something about Beca denying medication. That fragment of a sentence suddenly makes more sense.

She walks quickly to the bed but slows in her approach, careful not to touch or jostle anything. Beca's eyes are closed but the monitor at her side shows her heartbeat. It's slower than Chloe thinks is normal, but it's there. She looks at Beca, trying to find some unharmed place she can touch. She ends up taking her left hand, noticing her wedding ring is gone. Whether from being lost or being cut off, she doesn't know.

Beca stirs at the touch and opens her eyes. And Chloe breathes a little easier, finding comfort in the familiar blue among this sea of red.

"Hey, baby," she says, willing herself not to cry. She will force herself to be strong for Beca.

"Chloe," Beca says breathlessly. As if it requires huge sums of energy just to speak. "You're here."

"I'm here."

She strokes Beca's hand with her thumb and looks at the bags of medicines going unused.

"The nurse told me you're denying pain medication. Why, baby? Don't do this to yourself."

Beca looks at her a few moments, her eyes flicking back and forth between Chloe's.

"I was waiting for you," she says, tears forming on her lids. They leave streaks as they fall down her cheeks.

"I'm here now. And I'll be here. You should be resting."

There's a pause then, and Beca looks at her like her next words hurt as much as her body.

"You know... you know I don't have much time left," she says. As if that somehow has something to with anything. As if it's true.

"Don't talk like that. The doctors... they'll figure something out."

Tears begin to fall then, unbidden and unwelcome despite her will not to cry.

"Yeah. Maybe they will," Beca says faintly. "But if they don't, then I don't want to waste any time being asleep. I want to be with you."

"Baby, you are with me. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise," she says through half-choked sobs.

Beca looks down then. At their hands. She watches Chloe's thumb continue to stroke her skin.

"Would you really rob me of the last moments I could have with you?"

And Chloe wants so badly to fight the statement. To refute its implications. But that little voice is back again, getting louder by the second. It tells her to just hold on tighter to Beca's hand.

They sit in silence for a while, just looking at each other. Nurses come in every now and then to make sure Beca hasn't changed her mind about anything. They ask if there's anyone they can call for Chloe.

She says no each time. Whatever will come will come, and she'll deal with it when it does.

"I'm sorry I messed up date night," Beca says, the hint of her usual smirk trying to break through her pain.

And Chloe laughs despite herself. Only Beca could find a way to make Chloe laugh right now.

"So let's just pretend," Chloe says, fighting tears once more as she realizes this might be the last one. "Let's pretend we just had a really great dinner and that everything is fine."

A few more tears slip from Beca's eyes but she nods. And they pretend. They talk about everything as if they aren't in a hospital emergency room. As if they can't hear the monitor ringing out the proof of Beca's slowing heart. As if they aren't waiting for the worst moment of their lives.

"Can we pretend something else?"

Chloe nods. She'll humor anything Beca wants.

"Can we talk about the life we're going to have?"

More sobs threaten to kill Chloe's voice but she pushes through it.

"Oh, we're going to have the best life, babe. You're going to be the world's greatest producer. Artists are going to line up just for the chance of you touching their music. It'll be the kind of sound people stop what they're doing to listen to. Or the kind of rhythm even old white guys will want to dance to."

Beca laughs. But it's weak and feeble. It terrifies her.

"And you?" she asks.

"Well I will obviously inspire a generation," she says easily. Like that's always been the plan. "My students will grow up to cure diseases and be selfless politicians. And when they win their Nobel prizes and seats in office they'll thank me for showing them the power of words."

Beca smiles at her, like none of that is farfetched.

"In the meantime, I think I'll write books myself. Let's see how my words change the world."

"They would," Beca says easily. "They'd change the world just like that."

She tries to snap her fingers but they don't follow Beca's command. Neither of them mention it.

"What else?" she asks.

"Well, when we aren't changing the world, we'll be together. Stupid in love and the kind of mushy affectionate our kids will hate. But they'll grow up knowing what love really looks like. How it's supposed to act and how they should be treated. They'll find partners of their own and maybe have children too."

She smiles at the thought.

"And you and I can surround ourselves in the love we created. Our grandkids will play in our back yard and spend the night. We'll let them stay up late and break a few rules. We'll grow old and gray, and still love each other just as much as we do right now."

Beca nods. And Chloe desperately wishes all of that could be true.

"And when the time comes, we'll go together. And it'll be easy, because we'll have lived the best life. Together."

The tears slip down her face, but she smiles through them. She'd give anything for all of that to be real. They stare at each other for a while then, basking in that fantasy.

At some point though, the beeps become too slow to ignore. And Beca changes the subject.

"Chloe, I need you to tell the girls something for me."

Chloe shakes her head. She can't listen to those words.

"Beca, please don't do this. I can't-"

"Please, Chloe."

Chloe takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she opens them, she begs her body to hold it together. She nods.

"Tell them how much I love them. Tell them that they are the best things you and I ever made. Tell them to be good. And kind. And generous."

Chloe's crying in earnest now, but she wills herself to commit every word to memory.

"Tell them to never take shit from anyone," she says, as if knowing Chloe needs that moment of levity.

"Tell them I'm sorry I won't get to watch them grow."

Chloe nods. And the beeps grow fainter still. Beca's eyes begin to droop. And pure, unadulterated panic sweeps through her. Because she doesn't think she can survive this moment.

"Beca, please don't go," she begs. She grips Beca's hand harder, hoping the pressure brings Beca back to her. "I can't do this without you. Please don't go."

Beca smiles at her, and for the first time since knowing her, the smile scares Chloe to death. It's as if Beca's no longer in pain. As if she's already found peace.

"You can do anything under the sun, Chloe Beale."

Chloe shakes her head, and her words race against the monitor, willing them from her throat before the beeps stop.

"But you promised to love me forever."

Beca's grip in Chloe's hand slackens. And the beeps are so far apart now.

"Whoever said this would stop me?"

And then the beeps stop. And the pink from Beca Mitchell's last blush begins to fade from her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise to make this better.


	4. After The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think if you feel so compelled. Thank you for reading.

**After The End**

  
The afterlife isn’t what I expected. Let me start with that.

When I lived, I was never quite sure what I believed happened after death. But I certainly didn’t think that it would require this much energy. Not that I’m complaining.

But I’m really getting ahead of myself already. I should start at the beginning.

On my first day here, I was greeted by an honest to god welcome committee. It was like the first day of school all over again where you don’t know a damn thing about what’s going on. But instead of getting an overly helpful upperclassman to show you around campus, you get an overly helpful dead person to show you around heaven. Really, it was all very familiar.

The girl assigned to me was named April, and she started out by explaining the rules.

“Obviously, rule number one, and most importantly,” she said, “there is no direct communication with the living.”

I nodded, my shoulders slumping. I was already thinking of her.

“I don’t know who made the rules but they were very particular about that one. I guess they like some air of mystery around death. Who knows? Either way, don’t do it.”

We walked along, and I took in the surroundings. It was a lot like earth, if I’m being honest. Except there wasn’t any trash littering the streets, or loud noises, or advertisements. It was just people who looked happy. And cute little houses. There were buildings that looked like businesses too but I had no idea what kind of business could spark the interest of the dead so I didn’t ask. There’d be time to learn later.

“Now, the rulebook says no ‘direct’ communication. We sort of figured that means indirect is okay,” she said conversationally. I remember my head snapping up, attention caught. “And the easiest way to do that is through the elements.”

I must have looked at her like that made no sense (because it didn’t), so she elaborated.

“You know, water, fire, all that stuff. There’s a class on how to commune with the elements in the rec center. It’s taught every three days for incoming newbies. The next class is tomorrow.”

She pointed to a building at the end of the street, and I made a mental note not to miss a class until I was proficient.

“Huh, I guess there’s really only the one rule. But it’s a pretty big one,” she laughed. She came to a halt and so I did too. We were standing by an open grassy area. There were people milling about as if waiting for something.

“You’re one of the last ones to arrive today so your orientation is about to begin.”

(Remember what I said about it being the first day of school all over again?)

“Grab a spot, they’ll begin soon. If you have any questions after, feel free to find me. Oh, and welcome to heaven, Beca.”

I walked in a daze towards an unoccupied patch of grass, and within minutes, a few speakers had appeared near the end of the open area.

They talked about where we were and why we were there. I guess some people have a hard time accepting they died? They reiterated the rule about no communication with the living. They told us about day to day life (they laughed at their own joke) here. Afterward, we had a quick meet and greet with our fellow “same death day” peers, and then, because it was late, we were shown to our new homes by our orientation buddy.

April found me again and walked me to a cute little house on a hill. It was smaller than the one I’d owned in life, but who needed space in death? The green grass and blue door were the same though. And already I ached for her. To go back to her.

We walked inside and I flicked on a light switch.

“Care to show me around?” April asked.

And I was catching on a little, but with that question I was confused all over again. I told her I’d never been here before. She could probably show _me_ around better.

“This is your house, Beca,” she said. “It reflects _you_.”

I nodded, accepting that little bit of magic without much fanfare.

We walked through the house. It seemed bigger on the inside than the outside would allow, but I didn’t question it. I showed her the kitchen, which was smaller than my kitchen in life. But then again, I was never the best at cooking. There was a spare room, its walls covered in carpeted squares and all the production equipment I could have ever wanted in a home studio.

“I read your file before you arrived. You like to make music.”

I nodded, though I had no idea who I’d ever want to share my music with here.

We left the room and walked to the bedroom. Inside were only two pieces of furniture. A bed facing away from the window (the house really did reflect me), and a bookcase with half its shelves empty. I remember narrowing my eyes at it before walking closer for a better examination.

“Your file didn’t say anything about you being a big reader,” April said, walking closer as well. “Are these your favorites?” She pulled on a spine at random, and in the soft light of the bedroom lamp I could see that it was a collection of Russian poetry.

“No, they’re… they’re someone else’s favorites.” I turned, looking at all the titles she loves, and offered a silent thanks to the house. I knew I couldn’t have her. But if this was the only bit of her I could have, I would cherish it.

April had looked at me then with a little pity. As if she’d seen the look on my face thousands of times before. And in all honesty, she probably had.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in,” she said, probably sensing I needed time alone. “The sleep switch is by your bedside. A lot of people in heaven choose not to sleep in favor of doing other things. But I think most people find the first few days are easiest if they do.”

I thanked her and escorted her to the door. After she was gone, I went back to the bedroom, picked up one of her books and took it to bed. My tears mixed with the ink on the pages as they fell onto her favorite words, but I knew I needed to let it out. When I thought I’d had enough, I flicked the switch by my bed. Drowsiness swept over me, like a blanket settling on a newly made bed. It kept me warm. I fell asleep within minutes, with her book open against my chest.

/

The next day, I went to the elements class April had told me about. The instructor told us that nature can do our bidding, but only if we have a good relationship with it.

“You wouldn’t do a favor for someone you didn’t like, would you?” he said, chuckling.

He introduced us to the elements. It was weird, at first. Teaching fire my name and learning water’s favorite color. But I think they could sense my desperation. Or maybe my desperation made me a quick learner. Either way, it didn’t take me long to figure out how to work with them. Blend myself into them. To see what they saw and feel what they felt. It was a strange, but not unpleasant experience.

“Very good, Beca!” the instructor had said when I’d charmed the earth into telling some flowers to bloom.

“Now you know, you can’t do anything this obvious in front of the living. It has to be subtle.”

I nodded, hoping this meant he’d show me how to even _see_ the living.

But he didn’t. I had to wait for everyone else to catch up. After what felt like eternity, he said we were ready to move on.

He told us that in the afterlife, we can see the living. And we can see their souls. See the tenor of them. Their shape and color. He said knowing a person’s soul would help the elements better. I relaxed. I knew her soul like my own.

He showed us how to focus. How to let that soul call to us. I closed my eyes and let my own soul wander. It drifted, as a moth does to flame, right to her. I was nearly startled out of my focus with my first glance.

I had never seen her so broken. It was hard to stay there with her. To watch her fall apart. Her soul was pale and small. It flickered like a light bulb as it approaches the end, desperately trying to maintain its connection to life.

I didn’t dare try to reach her then. She was too fragile. She needed the living now more than anything. She needed people to take care of her. Not whatever imitation of connection I could offer.

So I left her be. But I always went back. I was addicted to her in death as I was in life.

As time went on, she got stronger. Her soul became brighter, though I’m sure not nearly as bright as it was before the accident. I watched as she slowly dragged the pieces of herself back together. I watched her heal.

Eventually, I felt confident that she was ready. And that I was. And so, whenever I had an opportunity, I would ask the elements for help.

In summertime, when she would swim, I would ask the water to let me borrow its body. And in the silence of its depths, it was like feeling her heartbeat next to mine again.

In winter, when she’d sit by the fireplace, I’d reach my hands into the flames. I’d let the warmth take me to her face so that I might feel her skin against my palms.

But the wind was my favorite. If she was outside, I’d ask the wind to share her arms with me. And for that split second when it drifted by her, it was like I was holding her in my own arms again. I really believe she could feel me then. Because it didn’t take long for her to always have a window open to let in the breeze. I would sit with her for as long as the wind would let me.

She began visiting my grave not long after that. She would talk to me as if she knew I could hear her. And god, how desperate I was to talk back. To tell her, _I’m right here!_ But I knew I couldn’t. And so I would do the next best thing. I would ask the wind to let me make music through the leaves. It was the only voice I had left on earth.

Eventually our oldest daughter, Riley, asked to start coming with her. I watched her struggle with the decision. Trying to decide if Riley was old enough to handle it. Not seeing the grave, but seeing _her_ when she got close to it. But in the end, she decided she had no right to keep Riley from me if she wanted to be there. And I watched as they cried on the dirt by my headstone.

It was agony to see. I hated myself for being so impotent. For not being able to console my family. I looked around for something, anything, that might help. But all I found were the dying leaves of fall. I found one that was Riley’s favorite color and blew on it. Like you might blow out a birthday candle. I urged it right into her lap, begging her to see it and know I was there.

When I lived, I could have given Riley the world. In death, all I had to offer was one of its leaves.

But for whatever reason, it made her stop crying. They left shortly after that, and I couldn’t help but smile as I watched her tuck the leaf carefully into her pocket.

See what I mean? It takes work when you miss someone. It takes a whole lot of it when you miss someone as deeply and completely as I missed her.

/

Life, hers and mine (if you could call it that), passed this way for a while. The girls grew. She healed. I watched. I made a few friends in heaven.

It wasn’t the ideal way to spend time with her, but it would do until I could truly be with her again. As she got older, I watched the color of her soul change. It was lonely. She was lonely. And of course my first choice wouldn’t have been for her to love someone else, but it would have been selfish to make her as lonely as I was. So one day, as she was sitting on a park bench, I closed my eyes and just told the wind to get it over with. There was a nearby park directory with all kinds of notices and advertisements on it. Some for up for sale furniture, some for part time jobs. One was for a widows and widowers support group. Caroline was playing on the playground, so I watched her instead as the wind ripped it from its pin. I didn’t want to see the moment the flyer landed at her feet.

But inevitably, it must have, because she went to the very next meeting. Where she met a man who was also lonely. They weren’t soul mates. He had lost his just as my soul mate had lost hers. But they were compatible enough to love each other. He made her smile and she made him laugh. And if I had to endure that love for the rest of her life I would do it. Because it meant her soul wasn’t that color anymore.

It was supposed to be me who got to grow old with her. But instead the honor fell to him. I watched as their hair turned gray and their joints grew achy. It hurt so much the day he died. To watch her break all over again, even if it wasn’t quite to the same extent. I met him after he got settled into heaven. He was with his soul mate when I knocked on his front door. He was young and whole again, and happier than I’d ever seen him on earth.

“Beca!” he said when he opened the door. “I’ve heard so much about you.” He ushered me inside and introduced me to his partner. He told me he recognized me from all the pictures he’d been shown over the years.

And all the hurt over watching her love someone else was washed away. Because she loved me first. And loved me still. I made two new friends that day.

/

It took a bit longer for her time. She’d always resisted change like that. But eventually, I knew I was about to have her with me again. She was in a bed with rails on it, and she was surrounded by our children and grandchildren. There was no monitor hooked up to her as there had been to me. But I could see her soul reaching farther and farther away with every numbered heartbeat.

Riley and Caroline, their own hair starting to gray at the edges, sat closest. Their tears fell around their mother and she told them not to worry. That she was ready. Her last request had been for someone to open the window.

I slipped in with the breeze, just as I had done a thousand other times. And when it took her last breath, I went with it.

She arrived in heaven with me waiting for her. I’d asked the welcome committee to let me handle this one. She was perfect. Beautiful in the way even my timeless memory had failed to get just right. Her hair was back to red and she was young again. Her skin glowed.

I mastered myself, making myself wait to touch her.

“Chloe,” I said through rapidly forming tears. It was the first time I’d said her name in a long, long time.

She ran to me then, but stopped before colliding with me.

“Is it really you?” she asked.

I lifted both my hands to her cheeks. I had thanked the flames a million times for letting me touch her face but those were ghostly touches compared to this. Her cheeks were warm and wet with her own tears.

“I’ve waited so long for you,” I said.

She kissed me then. And if it was possible to die twice then I know I would have. Because her lips threatened to take whatever afterlife I had.

“I can’t believe you waited a whole lifetime. Just for me,” she said when she pulled back.

I smiled. Didn't she remember my promise?

“I’d have waited ten more.”

She kissed me again, and my knees felt like buckling. When she pulled back the second time, her expression changed.

“Beca, our girls,” she said urgently. “They grew into the most amazing women.”

“I know,” I said, smiling. I was so, so proud of them and the job Chloe did raising them.

“You do?” she asked.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” I said, pulling on her hand.

And then she followed me into the light of heaven.


End file.
